


The Little Shoebox in the Drawer

by escspace



Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: Cadiscord Secret Santa, Family, Fluff, Gen, Modern Rael, Modern Ragar AU, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28663857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escspace/pseuds/escspace
Summary: The household gets ready for the Lunar New Year.A gift fic for Kiyoko for the Cadiscord Secret Santa event.Prompt: "A ficlet about the Frankenstein household during an idle day."
Relationships: Frankenstein/Ragar Kertia/Cadis Etrama Di Raizel, M-21 & Takeo & Tao (Noblesse), Rajak Kertia & Rael Kertia
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21
Collections: Cadiscord Secret Santa 2021, The Modern Kertia Expansion Pack: Keeping Up with the Kertias





	The Little Shoebox in the Drawer

There was one for every year. Rael pulled open his top dresser drawer and slipped the red envelope in between the seventeen others. This year was the year of the ox, and his father had always given him a single envelope during the Lunar New Year every year since he was brought into this world, and he kept each one—bright red and decorated with golden pictures and inscriptions—in a small Nike shoebox from when he was merely four, now worn and fraying at the corners and haphazardly repaired with packing tape. On the flimsy cardboard lid was a crude painting done in children's tempera paint, the colors now cracked and faded, of a field of grass that was too green and a sky that was too blue and a sun that was too yellow and a poor facsimile of the little stuffed black sheep he had named Ra when his father gifted it to him for his so called ‘birthday’ (so called because he knew he was rather different from the other kids—the other humans). Rael knew it was a stupid thing but could never bring himself to toss the box or the envelopes.

 _“Red envelopes again? We’re in Korea, Ragar,”_ Frankenstein had said when Father had produced the item from his pocket. Rael always accepted the gift with both hands. _“For a Kertia, you’re awfully slow to adjust.”_

 _“I like them,”_ Father retorted simply before producing a second red envelope.

This year was the first year they were to be celebrating the Lunar New Year with Rajak Kertia—the eldest son, the favorite son, the _noble_ , the _clan leader_ —and family, supposedly.

Rajak too accepted the gift from Father with both hands.

* * *

“I’ve sent Tao the shopping list. Return with the ingredients by ten o’clock.”

“Make that nine thirty, Boss!”

“Is there anything I can help with, Godfather?”

Frankenstein turned from his cleaning, feather duster in hand and pink apron donned, expression curious. “Tao, Takeo, and M-21 will be enough to take care of the shopping.” Rael resisted looking away from Frankenstein’s discerning gaze which was likely reading him like an open book but choosing mercifully to not comment upon his innermost motivations. “Thank you for offering, Rael,” Frankenstein chose to acknowledge instead and with effortless tact added, “I should be attending to Master’s tea at this hour”—though it was, in fact, not the hour for tea—“and would appreciate it if you finished up the cleaning: the hallway upstairs needs to be mopped and the dishes on the drying rack need to be put away. We will be using our finer china today.”

“I would like to assist as well.” The subdued voice drifted in from a short distance away. Rajak had just stepped in from the door that connected the garden deck outside to the kitchen, and he drifted with the weightlessness and silence of a ghost to where they were gathered in the living room, appearing suddenly behind Rael to cast him in his shadow.

Rael spun with barely restrained agitation, the heat of which made him quick—but he knew never quick _enough_ —to glare at the taller Kertia, though he held his tongue from snapping in ways he might regret, especially in front of such an audience. “I thought you were running errands with Father.”

“We have finished in a manner more timely than expected.”

Rael could not help but peer around—a quick scan of the room that revealed to him nothing that he needed to know. “Then where’s Father?”

“Attending to personal matters.”

He clicked his tongue unpleasantly and scowled at the entirely useless response but dropped the subject anyway. “I’ll get started.” With particular fortitude, Rael marched away, filled with a mustered optimism that was precarious at best: paper mache tacked upon the frail, foolish belief that he could best his brother.

* * *

But maybe that belief was not so foolish after all as he stared at the ghastly attempt at mopping. There was so much water on the wooden boards that he could have swum in the puddles if he put his mind to it. The shiny uneven streaks left behind by the uneven mopping did more to spread and push dirt around than to be conducive to anything resembling _cleaning._ Careful not to slip, Rael marched up to Rajak, who at least had the sense to don one of the pink aprons before making a Jackson Pollock painting of everything, and snatched the mop from his hands.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Mopping the floor, as was desired.”

“No, you're not. You’re making a mess.” It did not escape him that he was starting to sound just a bit like Frankenstein. Rael sighed heavily and his face crinkled in irritation. “Jesus—have you never held a mop before—“ He abruptly shut his mouth at the realization that he was almost certainly right: Rajak had likely never seen a mop like this one, much less held one or knew what to do with it. “Look, you do it like this.” Hair falling partially into his face as he leaned forward, Rael began his vigorous demonstration, brow furrowing slightly in concentration as he worked from one end of the hallway to the other in neat, snakelike rows. He was never one to admit that he particularly cared about such things like chores or cleanliness, but for Godfather's sake, if for no one else's, he did care. Perhaps the habit of neatness had simply been inculcated within him over the years; it was always an opportunity to impress Frankenstein, regardless.

"You are rather adept at this," Rajak said.

Rael paused, but he did not bother to look up from his work. "Yeah, thanks...whatever..." He scoffed lightly to himself, not wanting to admit the upwards flutter of his mood at the compliment but failing to hide his tone completely. "Anyone can do this, even you, Brother."

"It appears I still have much to learn. I am glad you are able to tutor me."

This time, Rael did look up, and he stared at the confounding Rajak Kertia, so entirely out of place standing at attention in this modern house in modern society wearing his dark Lukedonian garb that Rael suspected hadn't changed in style for at least a hundred years, maybe even longer: a black sheep against white walls. "That's right." He stood a bit straighter, a bit taller. He could not quite tell if the pride he felt was for himself or for Rajak, but it was something he did not mind feeling nonetheless. "You've got a lot to learn from me, Brother." A small, smug smile broke through his face, and perhaps there was some kind of brotherly emotion there as well, feeble, but there.

Rajak nodded once, as stiff as always. "Thank you, Rael," he said.

Rael was not yet one to admit the significance those three words held for him. He quickly returned to his mopping duties, eyes darting downwards to the wet surface again and catching their distorted reflections; they looked nearly indistinguishable in the pools on the floor.

* * *

"Our home has gotten quite lively, hasn't it, Master?" Frankenstein set the teacup and saucer down on the table with a quiet clink, the motion both as automatic and as essential as breathing to him. Softly he smiled, a private smile shared between just the two of them. He felt it within himself, and this was reflected in the bond that bridged him and his master: a warmth, a glow, an age old ballad that Frankenstein would sing again and again whenever Master would grant his servant the comely joy of his company.

"It is not a bad thing." Raizel picked up his cup, letting the steam carry the scent of black tea towards him.

"I would have to agree." Frankenstein sighed one of those motherly sighs, gentle and exasperated and touched with pride. It was not an expression he wore commonly, but within the private, intimate company of his master, he was liberated to be as doting and emotional as he pleased. Raizel's presence was enough to comfort him. "Master," Frankenstein began as he poured a cup for himself his well. "Do you have any thoughts regarding Ragar's children? It's understandable that Rael would be...contentious towards his estranged brother. They've had entirely different upbringings, I would imagine, and their father is—well, Ragar is a character, isn't he?"

"Not unlike yourself, Frankenstein." Raizel smiled behind his cup.

Frankenstein blinked. "Ah, yes, I suppose..." He glanced away only briefly in an emotion that resembled bashfulness; somehow, Frankenstein was beginning to suspect that Master simply knew him too well, but this was far from a complaint.

Raizel lowered his cup and thought in comfortable silence for a short while. Steam rose and coiled into meaningless scripts and then diffused into the air, cooled by a breeze passing lazily through the open window of their room. Luminous, white curtains fluttered daintily, their sound counting misplaced and uneven seconds. "Rael is very young, even amongst humans," Raizel started in his usual calm, melodic voice. "But he has been in your care as well as Ragar's for the entirety of his life so far; I have the hope that the brothers will come to understand each other before very long."

 _What could 'very long' mean to someone like Master?_ Frankenstein thought but did not choose to voice.

His master still heard him nonetheless and raised his teacup again to his lips, then just a hair higher, a reflexive motion to cover that light blush on that pale face.

It was quaintly endearing to Frankenstein, who only offered to refill his teacup before continuing their thread of leisurely conversation. "That boy is a handful at times," Frankenstein sighed. "Thank you for your faith, Master."

Raizel smiled. "I was considerably surprised that you and Ragar had elected to have a child together during my absence—"

"Master!" His teacup clinked on his saucer. Frankenstein recoiled, collecting himself again and clearing his throat into a fist. "My apologies," he quickly added as he bowed his head slightly and for just a moment. "That is...a mischaracterization of the situation, my lord..."

Raizel sipped his tea, ever elegant and simultaneously ever knowing, as there were few things he knew better than the soul bonded to him. Frankenstein watched him in the following silence, both contemplating upon his master and what his master saw of him now.

"It is not a bad thing, Frankenstein," Raizel told him.

Frankenstein modestly raised his own cup. "Is that so, Master...?"

* * *

At the foretold hour of nine thirty, Tao, Takeo, and M-21 returned and shuffled into the house with the requisite bags of groceries and each with their own plastic cup of milktea. Tao appeared to have long finished his own and craned his neck in an attempt to sip some of M-21's only to have the cup yanked away before his lips could touch the straw.

Takeo placed his bags down on the kitchen island before extending his half full cup towards Tao. "You can have some of mine."

"But I always have some of yours. It's not fair."

M-21 nearly tossed his share of groceries to the floor. "Just order two for yourself next time."

"But that's too much."

"Then get a small cup—Jesus Christ."

"Oh."

Their frivolities were interrupted by the sound of another entering the home's front door, not long after their own grand entry. Ragar Kertia stepped into the entranceway with his arms full of yellow flowers, bright, fluffy chrysanthemums. He only gave the trio a cursory nod before heading for the hallway, as silent as ever.

"Goodness, Ragar. That's what you went out for?" Frankenstein's voice drifted from a short distance away, no doubt having coincidentally passed by his so called friend, though from what M-21, Tao, and Takeo had seen and heard of the two, they suspected that Frankenstein and Ragar had a rather liberal definition of the word friend.

"Hey Boss!" Tao trotted up to Frankenstein as the older man emerged into the common room and glanced curiously in his direction. "We've got the goods, Boss, and right on time too." He swept into a low bow.

Frankenstein's eyebrows disappeared into his bangs.

Tao continued to bow.

"What are you expecting of me, Tao?"

"Er, well...It's the New Year, Boss."

"And?"

Behind their comrade, M-21 and Takeo exchanged apprehensive looks.

"You see...I've been wanting to upgrade my PC." Tao persistently did not yet lift his head as he made his case. "And I'm a little low on funds..."

"I don't carry cash."

Tao snapped upright and reached into his back pocket for his phone, a cheery smile plastered shamelessly onto his face. "I also accept Kakao Pay."

* * *

When Rael returned to his room at around noon, a vase full of yellow flowers rested on his desk. He peered at it, surprised and curious, and then ran his fingers lightly across the staggered petals, full and luminous under the streak of sunlight coming in through his window. Wondering why he cared at all in the first place, he stepped out of his room to investigate the rest of the house but did not find the same flowers elsewhere until the gently curving smile of a single petal on the floor caught his eye. It rested against the doorframe of his brother's room. He supposed he suspected as much and returned again to his own room without venturing inside and walking in on whatever questionable hobbies Rajak Kertia might have entertained himself with.

Rael shut the door behind him. He sighed, crossed his arms, and scrutinized the chrysanthemums. "Thanks...Father," he finally murmured.


End file.
